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Wooyoung was screwed.
Wooyoung was so impossibly, so deeply screwed he didn't even know how to function anymore.
Maybe it was all because of San's cock driving into his throat. The familiar burn filling him, choking him with every drive forward. The heavy weight of it on his tongue always made his mind drift, feel light and untethered, willing to just take what San gave him and then demand more with his tongue, with hands gripping at San's ass, fingers digging into firm muscle, to push him deeper, keep him there as he swallowed around his length like a cat lapping at milk.
But it couldn't be that because he knew he was good at giving head. He knew it, was proud of it, and was reminded of it by San every time he got to fuck his face like nothing more than a little toy. He could relax his throat and just take it, just like he was taking it now, eager and a little cock drunk because he just loved it that much. The feeling of gagging around San's cock and being the one to bring him pleasure.
Or maybe it was San looking down at him through his glasses. Yeah maybe it was that; San's dark eyes watching his every movement with greedy attention, the thin frame of the glasses accentuating the hot throb in his pussy, making him leak even more on the floor of their hotel room. Wooyoung was so, so glad San never decided to go on and get his lasik done because the way glasses fit on his face, made him look classy and older. It undid Wooyoung every time he thought of how much he loved seeing San look at him through them. In fact he was pretty sure San knew that. Knew that, and used it as a weapon, distracting him from everything else and calling him in like a moth to a flame, directly into his own ruination.
But honestly, he was pretty sure, what fucked him up so bad was the feeling of leather on his skin. Warm, well loved thick black leather on his scalp, grabbing and tugging at his hair to keep him in place as San drove into his throat with single minded focus. Wet, sticky leather on his neck, covering the bulge showing at every passage of San's cock into it, spit and tears and cum mixing together and dripping down the long lines of his throat, gathering in the dip on his collarbones. He was a mess, he knew he was because he could feel it, the burning satisfaction of being ruined, and he could see it in San's face, the way he followed with unfiltered satisfaction the dark tear tracks on his face, make up smudged and spoiled.
"God, Young-ah. Fuck, look at you. You got a throat made for cock, don't you? My pretty baby, all ruined" San rumbled above him, his hand impossibly soft as he moved his fringe away from his face before pushing him against his crotch, against the trimmed bush of dark hair, holding him in place as he grinned so deeply Wooyoung felt it in his stomach, his eyes watering and his head getting all woozy at the praise. "Taking it all, my good kitty— fuck, not yet—"
San dragged him away, the leather cracking as he held long strands of black hair tight in his fist, a groan escaping him mouth as he threw his head back, biting his bottom lip to hold himself back. Wooyoung whimpered, a pitiful little sound dragged out from a scratched throat, his hand flying to hold San right over his knee, hand clamping on thick muscles, right over the claim they had on each other skin. The rush of oxygen made his head spin, but the need to have San's cock back in his mouth was overwhelming, bringing fat tears to his eyes as he tried to mouth at the base of the length with sloppy lips, sucking and lathering it even more with the amount of sheer mess in his mouth. He was a penitent to the altar, on his knees begging for salvation, ready to receive every part of his punishment with eager desperation.
"Shh, it's okay. Take a big breath for me. Like that, Wooyoungie" San softly crooned at him, hand so grounding on Wooyoung's cheek as he wiped away blackened tears, dragging him back to reality and easing him back into gentle clarity. He was his oak tree in a hellish tempest, sturdy and unwavering, a safe place to hide from the danger and lull him back to more peaceful winds. He snuggled against the warm leather, and became aware of how soaked his thighs were, of the dull need spreading through his whole body, heavy and demanding just as much as the pain in his knees and the burn of his throat.
"Bed. My legs are killing me" Wooyoung managed to rasp out, voice torn and ruined. They were lucky they didn't have any concert soon, nor any schedule for at least a couple of days. They both made sure of that, to find a time that wouldn't put them in a tough spot, force them to hide more than what it was needed, cover marks they wanted to see for as long as they could in their privacy. They were free to indulge themselves, free to ruin each other and then build themselves back up, together and in the safety of a place they claimed as their own.
San chuckled, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss on swollen and reddened lips, not caring of the mess painting them. And Wooyoung, tired and wounded up at the same time, could do nothing but lean into the touch, like a cat seeking a gentle hand, his head heavy, his body rooted into the floor. Only the touch of leather still on his skin gave him the relentless burn necessary to not completely surrender to the fog trying to claim his brain.
"Alright, up we go then," San whispered at last, strong arms gathering the lax body against his with ease. An ease that made Wooyoung shake, made his want start burning like an active volcano ready to explode. He felt small, and loved, and taken care of, and it made him so impossibly wet he could feel his pussy clench around nothing, an emptiness that was making him insane. San was hot, and steady, and big, ad he was safe.
The walk to the bed was a short one and yet it felt like the longest journey, and when time came for San to step back, Wooyoung arms gathered around his neck and kept him there, over him.
"Hm, not yet. Stay," a little whiny croak, nothing more than a whisper, and San smiled. Shifted his body and laid on Wooyoung with all his weight, heavy and warm, completely hiding Wooyoung from the rest of the world and silencing the warning sirens of need, need need, blaring in his head.
"Already done?"
"Don't joke. I just want you— close. For a moment."
"Everything you need, Young-ah," was the easy answer, accompanied by a soft and lingering kiss on Wooyoung collarbone. And as good as San was at breaking him apart, it was in making all his broken pieces fit together again that he showed all his care.
They stayed like that, Wooyoung's arms around San's shoulders, long fingers drawing nothing on a broad back, muscles shifting with every relaxed breath. But the need was growing stronger with every moment, every meager energy he was regaining, and soon Wooyoung started grinding against San again, crotch to crotch, his softening cock taking interest as soon as the wetness met the velvet skin of his cock-head.
San started kissing Wooyoung's neck, slow and unhurried, little bites peppering the prominent veins on the side of it, leaving blooming purple marks bound to sting, making Wooyoung shake with want, thrusting his core with more intent to trap the heavy length between messy folds.
"San-ah— please, c'mon—"
A last wet kiss, a bite meant to last the night, and San lifted himself on his arms to look at Wooyoung. The image made Wooyoung breath catch, San's hair soft and falling in his eyes over the frame of his glasses, eyes blown dark and yet so full of fondness, always full of fondness even when he was ruining him and making him forget his own name. And his arms, oh his arms, biceps bulging, caging him in, and he wanted to bite. They were perfect, they would look perfect with bite marks all over them, deep and —
"Chop chop!" Wooyoung demanded, like a spoiled prince crying out for attention.
"That's not how you ask nicely, Young-ah, but— fine fine!" he chuckled, escaping bony and demanding fingers pushing him down.
He made his way down, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. San had always been like that, eager to use his mouth, hungry to kiss and taste and claim and claim and claim. He kissed down the line of his pecs, lips a flutter on both his nipples like the softest tease, making Wooyoung jump with a whimper, and then down, painting the lines of dry abs and of a deep v-line, stopping to push his tongue in Wooyoung's belly button just to make him squirm, smirking on heated skin as soon as he gathered the reaction he wanted.
Then, slowly, he took Wooyoung's legs, black leather a stark contrast on honey skin, and put them on his shoulders as he finally reached between his legs. There, San stopped to kiss his inner thigh, a reverence in his touch as he mouthed over their tattoo that was so sweet, so overwhelming, Wooyoung could feel his eyes water at the sight. The moment later, San was looking at him, head resting on the soft muscle like it was his own personal pillow, looking at him with intense eyes.
"You'll stop me when it's too much, got it?"
"It won't, get moving or—"
"Wooyoung." It wasn't a tone Wooyoung could run away from even if he wanted. And he didn't, he knew this was important.
"I will. You know i will, now please"
San gave him a long look, his gaze searching his own with that deep intensity that always made him shift and feel seen, his soul bared and naked. Then he hummed, satisfied, and shifted his gaze on Wooyoung's pussy, drenched and red and puffy. The way he lowered his face towards it, slow and precise, eyes linked with Wooyoung's own with his sinful eyebrow lifted, was deliberately made to make Wooyoung scream in frustration, the long and measured lap up the whole length of the slit was what actually made him groan though, loud in the silence of the empty room.
Wooyoung threw his head back, hands flying to San hair to tug and hold and to push him closer, as close as he could go, riding his face immediately with overwhelming need. Nose buried in dark hair, San hummed with delight, and lapped again, and again, and again, until the only thing Wooyoung could feel was his tongue and the pleasure spreading though his whole body like lightning bolts. He could only arch his back and grind against San face, his nose hitting Wooyoung clit on every up stroke. Then, with a chuckle that made Wooyoung whole body tremble, San closed his lips around Wooyoung clit, and sucked.
He was too wounded up after sucking San off, need coursing through his every vein, and he shattered. Warm liquid hitting San's chin and drenching his skin, Wooyoung came with a loud moan, legs trembling like newborn fawn. San only kept going, drove straight through his pleasure with gloves digging into the skin of his hips, and took everything, never stopping, greedy in a way that was exclusively for Wooyoung benefit.
San sucked and sucked again, pure delight in the happy sounds he was making in the back of his throat, lost to the taste of him and the sounds Wooyoung was making above him. And if San had always been eager to use his mouth, it was in eating Wooyoung out that he had always thrived. He could do it for hours, had done it, more than once, without wanting anything more than have Wooyoung pleasure for himself.
And that was why he shifted once again, hand moving one of Wooyoung legs away from his shoulder to push it on the bed once again. His thumb caressed the crease of his inner thigh like he was leaving a brand, before the touch of leather oh his center made Wooyoung jump. San played with his clit with more intent, tongue going around the sensitive tip, trying to distract him from his gloved pointer finger circling his entrance. Then, without any resistance at all, it slipped inside with a wet sound, juice coating the sleek material in an instant.
San didn't wait, didn't let Wooyoung crash down from his high, he just pushed in deep and hooked his finger, pressing up before sliding out again, and repeating the same action again and again. His chin dripping slick down on his hand, he kept eating Wooyoung like a man starved for years.
Pleasure wreaking Wooyoung, he could do nothing but hold San hair so tight he was sure his scalp would sting later, little "ah— ah— ah" escaping his swollen lips as he just took it, the added girth of the thick leather making him way too far gone for a single finger.
With a final suck, San lifted his head to look at Wooyoung, eyes so dark they could have been black and the lower part of his face shining with slick.
"You sure you can take more, baby? It's just one finger and you're whimpering like a little slut," San drawled, his finger pushing up against his sensitive walls as his thumb pressed down on Wooyoung's clit.
"I can— I can, please, San-ah—" little cries, torn from a rough throat the moment San's middle finger pressed inside, the fit snug and yet so, so wet. He was so wet it was embarrassing, leaking down sheets that were ruined beyond salvation.
"Shh, it's okay, it's okay kitten," a soft coo, an even softer hand on Wooyoung's tummy a stark juxtaposition to the rough tempo of San fingers.
Then, without any warning, Wooyoung was left clenching around nothing, the emptiness an ache so deep that a sound of protest started to leave his lips before it was torn from his lips, morphed into a moaned cry. San hit his pussy, flat hand covering the whole of it, the sound muffled by wet leather, and Wooyoung body convulsed as the pain mixed with pleasure so intense he squirted so hard his vision blurred, orgasm ripped out of him too soon.
San kept going, one slap and then another, watching tears running down Wooyoung's face as his other hand kept caressing his tummy, spreading the wetness that had reached there to mark him up everywhere he could reach.
Overstimulation set quickly, Wooyoung mouth open in a silent scream as drool fell over his lips, one hand holding a bundled sheet as the other ran to his own tummy, covering San's fingers with his own and intertwining them, needing grounding, searching an anchor in the sea of pleasure that was wreaking him. San took it, held it, and moved it to the side of his head as he raised too, holding himself up with their hands still linked.
"Look at me," a voice like a lighthouse in the dark.
Wooyoung opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them, and looked at San face with blurred vision and a stare so unfocused he barely saw him.
San leaned in, kissed Wooyoung's dot under his eye, salt wetting his lips, and gazed at him as he slipped a third finger inside with the others. The burn in his arm was nothing to the widening of Wooyoung's eyes, to the cries he let out as the rough tempo he set dissolved Wooyoung's body to nothing but the pleasure he was feeling, the leather on his skin the catalyst of it all.
San's fingers arched, and pressed deeper, and Wooyoung writhed, panting with the pleasure wreaking him .
"You're so good to me" San breathed, his chest feeling tight at the vision under him. He leaned towards him, kissing him softly, the action made sloppy by Wooyoung's lips stuck open, moans spilling without control. San pumped in, then withdrew, and every time he slid back inside he arched his fingers, scissoring them to stretch Wooyoung out, making him whimper. Kisses peppering his face, on his cheekbones, on his jaw, San overwhelmed him with his hands, leather inside him as deep as San could reach, leather in his own hand as he holds San's like his life depended on it.
On the next stroke, San's pinkie aligned with his other fingers, and slid inside Wooyoung too quickly, too easily. Wooyoung cried, full, fat tears falling down his cheeks, eyes wide open and searching San's in the enormity of what he was feeling.
"Ah — Fuck, San, please —"
"Please what, kitten? What do you need?"
Wooyoung hiccuped, soft and pitiful.
"More — please —"
At that San stopped, and smiled, looking down at Wooyoung as his fingers slowed down to a lazy rhythm.
"More? You have four of my fingers already, Youngie," he teased, kissing under Wooyoung's ear, the hot rush of air leaving goosebumps on his skin.
"No — San, your hand. Please, please, your hand —" broken prayers, Wooyoung begged, free hand grasping for San neck to keep him close.
"It's okay, I'm here. I'm here. You only need to ask" San coos and shush him, lips meeting for a short moment.
Then he lifted himself up, their hands never separating, his length heavy and leaking and ignored between them. San scooted slightly back, Wooyoung's legs around his hips, limp and wrecked by shivers, and this, right here, was the most beautiful sight he had the honor to ever see, and he was lucky enough to see it on the regular. Wooyoung open and unguarded, spent, begging for him, begging for what he could give him, and San would give him everything. Would grovel at his feet and gifts him the whole world. But what Wooyoung wanted now was so, so much easier than that.
San hooked his thumb close to his hand, bridging their linked hands on Wooyoung's tummy, and pushed inside.
Wooyoung world shatters around him, the feeling of fullness so overwhelming his body locked in a shiver of pure rapture. The slide was easy, so easy, and the widest part of San's hands disappeared inside him with a wet squelch that sent Wooyoung straight into another devastating orgasm.
He shivered and spilled over San's arm, the hem of the glove flaring around his entrance, sticky hair clinging to the drenched material, as his pussy contracted on the invasion, trying to close around it, to clamp it inside. He doesn't know what kind of sounds he made anymore, he'd be embarrassed to know really, but right now Wooyoung doesn't care. Can't do anything beyond feel.
"You're so beautiful like this," San voice, wreaked and low, reached him. It was scratchy, and deep, and it hit Wooyoung how San was as undone as he was simply by pleasuring him. It was a power that was as electrifying as it was terrifying. Maybe, had it been any other occasion, he would have used it, like he had done so many times before, San wrapped around his pinkie but he was wrecked, and ruined, his mind in tatters as he could only feel shattering bliss.
San's hand withdrew, slowly, only inches before it slid back inside. And then again, going further each time, until San was pumping inside him, filling him, steady and firm. Each time the slide was easier, the emptiness of the loss being filled faster, the punch of it mind blowing. Wooyoung, battle lost with his own body, squirted at every slide, wetness coating both their skin, the bed, their filthy sheets. He came, and maybe came again, one high blending into the other until he couldn't recognize one from the other, pain and pleasure mixing until everything looses focus.
And then, nothingness. Aching, chilling nothingness.
"No, no, no — San, please—" Wooyoung sobbed, searching the other, desperation setting in.
He felt his pussy trying to clench on the emptiness spreading through him, that feeling of being complete ripped away. He wanted it back, wanted San back now, needed it —
A flash in the dark, a quick slap on his clit. Loud and harsh, it made him convulse with the feeling of too much, and still not enough at the same time.
Still shivering, he felt his legs being shifted, lifted on a pair of wide shoulders, and Wooyoung was too far gone, everything was too confusing, too overwhelming. The feeling of warm and solid wetness on his cheek, a thumb wiping away his tears, made him barely find his way back.
"I'm sorry, I'm here. Fuck — I'm here, gonna fill you up, okay baby? Fuck, I need to — So fucking perfect —"
A single long slide, and San was inside him with a deep groan, clarity coming back to Wooyoung as he felt him bottom out, so deep inside he could feel the imprint of San's cock in his tummy, exactly where both their hands rested. He moaned, loud and high-pitched, the weight of San's cock finally filling him again, quenching the unbearable emptiness he had felt, the size of it satisfying beyond words.
"So messy— God, the way you feel, Youngie," San was looking down at him, biting his lip as he took deep breaths, his chest expanding with it, the bounce of muscles mesmerizing. But what punched a sound out of Wooyoung was the sight of his own thighs framing San's neck, looking so small and tiny on the impossible width of muscular shoulders, their soul mark right under San's chin, glove right above it and smearing slick on the elegant words imprinted there forever.
"San — please, Sannie, move —"
"I've got you, it's okay, I've got you baby" a reassurance, hands splaying possessive on Wooyoung's body, thumbs stroking gently as San leaned down and kissed the messy ink tenderly, before he looked at him with hungry eyes, lips opening to lap at the salt on Wooyoung's skin. Holding him firm against his chest, never leaving his eyes, San rolled his hips. A slow thrust, shallow and careful, followed right after by a fast slap of skin on skin. Everything in Wooyoung's body tensed, the feeling of too much, of overwhelming overstimulation battling with the insatiable hunger for more.
The rhythm grows frantic fast, bodies rocking together, the power and need behind every single one of San's thrusts stealing Wooyoung breath straight away from his lung in punched out moans. He as so deep, so deep he could sense every shift in his tummy, skin bulging and extending to accommodate San's size. Wooyoung grasped for it with his hand, greedy and speechless, the feeling exhilarating, and he watched with bleary eyes as San's followed his movement with with a want so deep it resembled starvation.
"You're feeling me there, Young-ah? In your tummy?" a mean thrust, hands holding Wooyoung's hips as easily as if he weighted nothing "Do you want me to paint you with my cum? I'll come so deep into your pussy you'll feel it in your womb" a groan, deep and rumbling, reverberating right through Wooyoung's thighs. San looked undone, hair sticking to his forehead, glasses running down the perfect line of his nose. He looked so fucking perfect like this and Wooyoung needed everything he could give, would take everything that he could grab for himself and hoard it in the depth of his soul.
"Fuck, yes— give it to me, — ah, want it, want you to fill me up Sannie —"
"Fuck—" and it was all the warning he got.
San fell forward, Wooyoung's legs going up, and up, his body folded under the weight of the other. The ceiling disappeared, hidden by the bigger frame of San, and he felt dizzy. San's cock drove into him with something akin to desperation, his grunts filling the air around them, creating a decadent song with the whimpers escaping Wooyoung without stop. He arched his back as much as the position allowed him, head thrown back, fingers leaving red marks on the powerful muscles shifting on San's back. San's hands were everywhere, all at once. Where he could reach, the feeling of leather was there, a brand impressed on skin — one hand reached his long hair, pulling them, exposing Wooyoung's throat further, a canvas to leave bruising bites, while the other smoothed down one side of his body, gripping at the curve of his ass to bring him closer with every pump of those hips driving him insane.
The sound was obscene, Wooyoung's pussy swallowing San's cock with wet sounds, squelches almost as loud as his broken moans. Breath stuttering, catching in his throat at every roll, at every smack of skin against skin, Wooyoung's arms grabbed at San's neck to bring him closer. He needed him closer, needed their bodies to become one, to merge until they were one in flash as they were in soul.
"Gonna pump you full — fuck," a moan, right on the shell of Wooyoung's ear. San shivered, biting at his lobe, sucking it into his mouth before he grunted, forehead meeting Wooyoung's cheekbone. The hand holding his hair went softer, skimming through the sweaty strands with care, soothing the sting it had left in its wake, as San's thrusts grew more uncoordinated. He kissed the side of Wooyoung's eye, wiping away the tears trapped there, flowing uninterrupted, then went lower, trailing a line of kisses till he was kissing him, their moans mixing, breaths stealing oxygen from each other.
"Sannie— San-ah — ah! Use me, want you to — ngh, fuck, want to be your cumdump please —" Wooyoung begged so prettily, voice broken, little whimpers and whines leaving his lips like a heavenly choir.
A growl ripped its way straight out of San's chest, who lifted himself enough to tower over Wooyoung, his hand snapping like lightning on his throat. Leather dug into his neck, the grip made slippery, fingers clamping on the sides with practiced surety. San's eyes were the epicenter of a lust so deep Wooyoung moaned at the sight, watching droplets of sweat run down San's neck, down his hair and on his temple, beads dripping down his nose and from the tips of soaked hair, dropping like liquid fire on Wooyoung's chest. The thrust that followed was so powerful their bodies slipped on the sheets, so deep Wooyoung's felt the tip of San's cock kissing his very center. His eyes rolled, hand covering San's own, and he let go, made himself be submerged by the tide. San fucked into him with mean precision, every roll hitting his sweet spot, strokes long and slow and deep and relentless, meant to be felt until the very last inch, to last and mark.
"Take it — fuck, you can take it, you're so good"
Eyes glassy, blood flow slowed and pleasure wracking through his body, Wooyoung floated, every fierce roll of San's hips making him dive deeper and deeper into nothingness, tongue darting out to catch precious air and little cries escaping like chocked breaths. San was a dark shadow over him, his grunts so deep Wooyoung could feel them echoing under his skin, teeth bared in a feral snarl, chasing his own pleasure with a power that made his blood sing. He had made San lose control, San who always prided himself in his unshakable resolve, San who was the unmovable mountain everyone leaned on, was now nothing more than a predator let loose on his prey. Arm bulging, hand flexing to give Wooyoung some air every few seconds, he was set on destroying him completely, no matter how many orgasms it took, how soaked their skin slapping against each other became with Wooyoung own mess.
Pressure disappearing from his neck, Wooyoung gasped from air desperately, big gulps of it like ice on his abused throat. Lips parted, San moved his thumb until it rested on the swollen redness of them, gathering spit in the gentlest stroke before he shoved it inside, pressing down on his tongue. His hips stilled, pressed down, and down, and deep, grinding slowly, making every single inch be felt, Wooyoung's legs so high up he was almost folded in half, feet pointing to the ceiling.
"Suck baby," Wooyoung complied, thoughts gone, just eager to please, lips closing around San's thumb and sucking, saliva gathering in his mouth with his tongue constricted "like that, good boy. You can give me another one, yes? You're so good, just one last one, for me?" lips on his neck, soft and delicate, leaving shadows of kisses on purple bruises.
Wooyoung nodded, humming like a eager kitten, not caring about how utterly oversensitive he was. Everything was too much, even the press of San's crotch on his clit almost painful, but he couldn't stop. He needed more, he needed everything, wanted to feel San dripping inside him.
San chuckled, the sound deep, and kissed his temple. So delicate, so reverent, the dichotomy of him too dizzing. "That's my good kitten."
Wooyoung's whimper, stuck behind busy lips, born from the sweet praise became a whine. San started to roll his hips again, devastatingly deep thrusts hitting his sweet spot with every pass, tip kissing his cervix, and Wooyoung quivered. Slow, methodical, San chased his own orgasm, their foreheads touching, glasses going foggy with their mixed moans, air thick between them.
His body shivered, muscles going taut, and he exhaled a whimper of his own ad he breathed down Wooyoung's ear.
"Come for me, Young-ah"
And Wooyoung did, one last time, squirting all over San and himself, the spurt sharp like the last roll of San's hips, who filled him up with a throaty moans, Wooyoung's name on his lips over and over again, like a mantra, like the sweetest prayer.
They stayed like that, breathing fast between them, enjoying their closeness and the bliss of coming together, feeling like their souls were merging. But San was the first to recover, always was, and with a tenderness reserved only to the most fragile things, he moved Wooyoung's legs from his shoulders down the bed, caressing his aching thighs.
"How you feeling?"
"'m sore. But good"
"Mh, let me get up, grab some towels and water—" Long arms, longer legs, immediately trapped him.
"No, want you close" a pout, mumbled on freckled skin.
"We're a mess and you're gonna bitch at me later if we don't—"
"Shut up, want to fall asleep with you're softening cock in me. Let a man fulfill his dreams."
San chuckled, his body going completely boneless on top of Wooyoung, pressing him down on the bed, enveloping him in warmth and security. Hands in his hair, Wooyoung closed his eyes and hummed in complete satisfaction, sleep already claiming him.
"Can I at least get rid of the gloves or —"
A slap on his head, a little grunt of annoyance.
"Don't you even dare. Dreams, San-ah."